Avalon High
by LuckyDuck932
Summary: A sneak peek at an AU novel based on Spamalot/Holy Grail. Better description inside.
1. Prolouge

**AN: It's been almost three years since ****_Avalon High_**** was completed (yes, I DID finish this!) and I honestly believe this story was instrumental for my growth as a writer, and I've grown a lot since then. But here I am, posting this story in its original form (sans a few typos and wording issues) for all to read because, yes, even though it's been years, I am still proud of myself for completing something this size ( about 140,000 words!) and sticking with it. So, without further adieu, I present to you, ****_Avalon High_****!**

**Prologue**

Herbert skidded into the kitchen, humming the tune of "La Vie Bohme" from _RENT_ as he bent his lithe body around the kitchen`s isle and came to the oven. He reached for the oven`s door and peered inside, checking how the Stouffer`s Vegetable Lasagna- a staple in Herbert`s diet- was coming along.

"Not ready," he proclaimed to the world, not that anyone would care. Reaching for the cardboard box, he double-checked that it wouldn`t be much longer for his lunch to be made. _Just a couple of minutes_ he told himself as he read over the directions.

He knew his father wasn`t going to be happy with the meal; Mr. Swampcastle proclaimed vegetables as "rabbit food" and his diet consisted of hardy meats and foods drenched in oil. Smiling to himself, Herbert thought of a line from the song he was just humming.

_And one pasta with meatless balls._

_EW._

_It tastes the same… if you close your eyes._

To occupy himself, Herbert reached for the collective notes and mail that gathered by the telephone on the counter. On the top of the pile was the shopping list that Herbert`s father had written on a piece of scratch paper.

"_To buy-_" Herbert said, leaning against the counter replacing his own sing-songy voice for a gruff impersonation of his father. "_Miller Beer, Newport Pleasure, Steak…_"

_Stuff that`ll kill him in the end_, Herbert couldn`t help thinking, but discarding that thought as he dug deeper into the pile. "Ooh," he squealed with excitement upon stumbling what he was looking for, pulling out the flimsy paper stack and grinning ear-to-ear. "Walgreen`s coupons!"

Just at that moment, the phone began to ring. "Get it!" A voice grumbled from the living room. But Herbert didn`t need to be ordered around to follow that direction- for he could see on the caller ID that it was Robin Poule calling.

"Hello?" He asked as he took the phone off the receiver.

"I found it!" Robin squealed into the phone without a proper greeting.

"What?" Herbert was curious.

"Guess," Robin commanded smugly.

Herbert placed his elbows on the marble counter and juggled the phone is his hand as he moved. Beating his foot against the floor in rhythm he thought jokingly. "Uhh…the secret to true happiness? The Holy Grail? A three headed monster in the woods having a tea party?"

"No, no, and yeah, right," Robin snickered. "Alright because you`re such a horrible guesser I`1l tell you. It`s the car!"

"_The_ car," Herbert echoed, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Really?"

"You bet your bottom dollar," Robin swore, giving something like a chuckle into the phone. "It`s in my price range and only has about ten thousand miles on it. Giving it`s age- that`s pretty damn sweet. I took it out for a test-spin and I`m about to finalize it-so I was callin' to ask if you want me to pick up and take you back to the dealership with me to sign the ridiculous amount of paperwork and the drive it around town."

"Can we drive it to Walgreens?" Herbert asked, curling the cord around his finger and avoiding the true question Robin had presented him.

"Walgreens- no way," Robin tutted as a response.

"Aw c`mon!" Herbert whined. But he couldn`t resist smiling. "I got my own coupons and everything!"

"I`m not taking you to Walgreen so you can flirt with the check-out people while I pretend to be looking through _People_ magazine," Robin told him, truly stern. "Can you just ask your dad if you come with me?"

Herbert looked over his shoulder- his father wasn`t looming over him. He turned his tone of voice to a whisper. "You know he`s going to say no."

"He could also say yes. Listen, just ask your dad and call me back with his response. I need to go, the salesman is getting impatient. Bye."

"Alright," Herbert sighed. "See you later. Love."

The phone clicked as Robin hung up. Sigh, Herbert slammed the phone back onto the receiver and scuttled the papers he was looking at into a neater pile than it was when he picked them up.

Just at that moment, the timer for the forgotten lasagna went off. Herbert snapped into action, reaching for the oven mitt with the faded design of garden vegetables on. Tugging it onto his right hand, he used his left to pull open the door of the oven and snatch a dish rag to aid the hot pan of pasta.

He set the pan upon the counter and kicked the oven door with his foot, shutting it fully with his hip.

"Vegetable lasagna for lunch_ again_."

From the archway, there stood Herbert`s father. Beefy, ruddy-faced, and as hairy as Sasquatch with the exception of the top of his head that was balding, Mr. Henry Swampcastle was a figure to be frightened of indeed. He casted a dark shadow into the kitchen as he stood in the doorway blocking out all light from the living room.

"Yeah," Herbert squeaked like a mouse, crippling his father`s shadow. "But- uh I think there are some microwavable dinners or something in the fridge."

"I know what`s in the fridge," the father snapped as he walked in, shoving off his son backwards as he passed him. Mr. Swampcastle pulled the door open and pulled out a TV dinner for himself- beef drenched in gravy, corn, and mash potatoes.

His son scurried out of the way as his father opened the packaging of the dinner on his way to the microwave, which was above the oven. Disdainfully, Mr. Swampcastle threw the dinner into the microwave and set the exact time that it needed to warm up. It hummed as the dish turned circles on the platter.

"Uh, father, do you mind if I ask you something?" Herbert asked timidly, summoning all his courage.

A grunting noise was Mr. Swampcastle`s typical "yes". He was too busy looking at the mail to articulate a full answer.

"Well my friend Robin is getting a car today and he asked if I could get picked up to go to the dealership and then around town to test it out," Herbert said, preparing himself for what he knew would come next. "So could I go?"

"No" was a different story. Mr. Swampcastle always spoke up whenever that was the answer.

"No."

"But why?" Herbert whined, slumping his shoulders down.

"Because you need to unpack, that`s why," Mr. Swampcastle answered, eyes fixed on the spinning dinner in the microwave.

"But father - we can unpack any old day…," Herbert began in protest, but was immediately shut up, but the slamming of a hand against the marble counter.

"Don`t talk back to me, Alice," Henry roared, glaring into his son`s blue eyes with a squinted gaze.

Herbert hung his head, pinching a bit of his tee-shirt and rubbing with his thumbs. "Herbert," he corrected in a tone so faint, that it was barely audible to his father. Trying to be brave and stay silent about the matter, Herbert cut up a square of his now-cooled lasagna and placed it onto a paper plate.

He wasn`t going to win this.

With Henry Swampcastle, no absolutely meant no.

Lucky emerged from her home into the bright sunlight, with a long, tall glass of lemonade in hand and her nearly completed romance novel tucked under her arm. It was a perfect late summer day- the sun shining brightly, the sky a cloudless blue, and the afternoon heat was perfect for a swim. The sound of heavy metal rock- no doubt from Roger`s mp3 in the speaker- blasted in the background. It was too much to believe that this was the last time she`d experience this perfect paradise for a long while.

"I can`t believe it`s the last day of summer!" She whined as she shut the door to her home after two balls of fluff jumped out onto the pathway.

The two Pomeranians followed in her shadow as she walked over the relaxing chairs, tramping behind her every footstep that clacked with the snapping of her Gucci sandals against her heels. Her friends, Aggie, Tristan, and Olwen, all lounged in their own chairs, soaking up the sun`s rays as they read their own romance novels and editions of _People _magazine. Roger, on the other hand, was floating on a raft in the pool, sunglasses obscuring his eyes as he looked up into the sky.

"It goes by so frickin' fast," Tristan observed, pulling herself from the latest gossip in her magazine. "Always. It`s all like, "Hey three months of freedom" and then, before you know it, that`s all gone and you have to be dragged back in."

"I don`t remember anything past Fourth of July," Lucky admitted as she set her ice drink down and sat down in the chair, trying to finish the last twenty or so pages she had left in her novel.

"Yes you do!" Roger corrected from his raft. "Remember, family Paris trip?"

Lucky thought for a moment then admitted, "Yeah, but half the time mom was in a café, working on her laptop or trying to get in touch with someone in America. Not really what I`d call a family trip."

Still, Roger shrugged a shoulder. "You`re so ridiculously lucky and you don`t acknowledge it. I got stuck helping out with my dad`s lawn business all summer."

"Lucky`s my name, don`t wear it out," she returned with their cheesy saying whenever how privileged she was arose. They read and floated in silence for a moment, all enjoying the last bit of summer in peace.

"Hey where`d you parents head off to?"Olwen asked, adjusting herself in the chair. "They were here when we arrived and now they`re, like gone."

Lucky at the time, had her mouth filled with lemonade, as she was trying to avoid chocking on the ice chunk she had accidently swallowed. "Mom went to go over see a move that really isn`t required for her job, but, you know. Dad- I think he went to the country club for a round of golf or something."

More silence. The words of the sultry, steamy novel she was reading barely made comprehension in Lucky`s mind as it wandered to the subject of Roger.

"Hey, Roger," she called, peeping up from her book. He sat up on the raft and looked in her direction. "What are we going to do about your hair? You said you wanted to do something with it."

Roger`s hair was currently a mousy brown shade that hung past his shoulder with thick, swooping bangs. Grabbing a lock to examine it Roger confessed, "We`ll I`ve always kinda wanted to dye it blue."

"Blue?" All four girls' jaws dropped along with their reading material. The two dogs, now curled under Lucky`s chair, could even sense the surprise that the girls had.

"Yeah." Roger`s face was turning the hue of a ripe tomato. "Like electric blue …"

"You sure you want_ blue_ hair?" Lucky asked, eyes widening. "What`s next, a tongue piercing?"

Roger`s expression was not one of amusement. "You know I have a phobia of having someone taking a needle and stabbing anywhere in my body."

"I was just kidding," Lucky returned. She knew they were at the point of no return and she wasn`t getting back to her reading material. "To the mall!"

At a much less exclusive pool party, Lance was trying to enjoy himself. Chicago`s_ Saturday in the Park_ played on the radio that was set to an oldies channel. The incessant sound of laughing, talking, screaming, giggling, war whooping made him to want to plug cotton balls into his ear. The Shalott annual end-of-summer barbeque pool party was never a function that had even a second of silence, from when the first guest arrive and splashed in the pool until the last little kid had to be carried by his father to the car.

The youngest children splashed and giggled with delight in the blown up-kiddy pool located by the porch so they could always be in an adult`s view. The Elementary school kids ran helter-skelter across the back yard and dove around others in the ever-going squirt gun war that sometimes claimed innocent victims who insisted on not getting wet. Lance`s own brothers were part of this said war. The teenagers were, for the most part, corralled in the pool, laughing; the girlfriends upon their boyfriends' backs in a tournament of chicken. Lance had played a round or so, but he had gotten out of the pool to enjoy a couple of snacks and talk with some of his friends. The adults hung around on the back porch, sipping their margaritas, discussing everything from their kids to politics, and waiting around for another batch of hamburgers that Mr. Shalott was making on the grill.

Food covered the buffet table at the end of the porch, and Lance held a Styrofoam plate with a pile of barbecue chips and a half eaten hot dog in one hand and a bottle of diet Coke in the other. He was leaning against the railing of the porch as he sipped his drink, his blue trunks dripping with dampness from his dip in the pool.

Just then, Connor, who was always referred to by his last name Bedivere, came up to the table with Patsy. Lance tried not to crack a smile seeing that Bedivere was wearing his extremely garish Hawaiian shirt with macaws and tropical flowers all over. A summer Bedivere tradition.

"That`s like your third hotdog," Patsy observed Bedivere critically, but he was to talk because he was grabbing another hamburger.

Bedivere, who had already taken a large chomp of his hotdog, returned with his mouthful, "But I`m starving." He swallowed, noticing Lance. "Oh hey Lance. Having a fun time?"

"Yeah, you?" He took a swig of his soda, it`s fizziness trickling down his throat.

"Other than the fact that I`m concerned that Arthur possibly broke his spine doing that back-flip, I`m good," Bedivere answered, shooing away a fly from touching a wedge of watermelon. "Ready for school tomorrow?"

"Who is?" Lance retorted, setting down his soda and whipping a bit of ketchup that was in the corner of his mouth. "I`m not ready for another year of scrapping by in English."

"If you use mnemonics like I suggested, it would help," Bedivere told him.

"You can`t use nu- new… whatever the hell that word was, in English," Lance said frowning.

"Just try," Bedivere said, taking himself and his hotdog over to the other side of the deck in order to discuss something with Tim Hara.

Patsy smiled faintly and shrugged. "He isn`t great at advice," he told Lance, reaching for the bottle of ketchup to squirt on his plain hamburger.

"So I`ve noticed."

"It`s best to go along with him," Patsy advised before turning to head back to the rest of the gang in pool.

Lance sighed, all alone again. Until he felt a hand slap against his arm. He faced the slapper, who turned out to be his best friend- Dennis Galahad. The other boy`s long, bleach blonde hair was wet and hung to his shoulders and he was quite tan- obviously from spending the entire summer outdoors.

"Hey, there he is! Back from France, the man who knew enough French to qualify to go on a school-funded trip to Paris, but hardly knows his own native language to pass tenth grade English!" Dennis teased loudly, but it was unlikely that anyone heard it from the increased volume of the crowd.

"Shut up!" Lance slapped his friend playfully back. "You nearly flunked eighth grade Civics!"

"_By choice_," Dennis corrected. "Because I told the teacher straightforward what a wrong with the government and she wasn`t going to hear it."

Lance laughed.

"So, have a good time in `ol Paree? More importantly, met any hot French girls?" Dennis asked, leaning back on the railing.

"It was fun, but no, we were in a tour group so I didn`t talk with any girls." Lance sipped at what was left of his Coke. "I really liked going to-"

Lance never finished, because a set of identical twins came strolling towards them. It was hard to determine if they really were twins, or just one of them a clone of the other. Especially today, were they both were clad matching white sundresses and had their long blonde hair down and pushed back by white headbands. "Hello," the one on the left greeted in this breathy, flirtatious voice. "Lance, Dennis."

"Zoot, Dingo," Dennis said, straightening his posture. Lance knew that those were just the twins' nicknames. Their birth names were Carol and Catherine Morison.

"Have you been working out?" The one on the right asked, smirking at Dennis and Lance`s chest. "It shows."

"I have, gotta stay buff for football, you know?" Dennis winked at the twins, just as the right twin reached for a banana- a normally unconventional treat for a backyard cook-out- from the fruit bowl. "I love bananas," she purred, unwrapping the fruit from its peel. She got a mouthful and sucked on it.

Lance froze. He knew very well what she was implying. Looking at his best friend, he noticed that Dennis was turning a crimson red. The strange thing, was Lance wasn`t blushing in the slightest form. In fact, he felt his face contort into the grimace of disgust and stumbling back away from the twins.

_Did they-? Oh god no. _What did he miss while he was in France?

"You`re so naughty, Dingo!" The left one, now showing her identity as Zoot, slapped her sister on the shoulder.

Dingo took a small bite into the banana and swallowed. "Wicked, evil, dirty me," she agreed, smirking ear to ear. "You`re just as bad, Zoot."

Rolling her eyes Zoot motioned to the pool. "I think I`ll go for a dip, if you boys want to join me. I`ll see you there." She pivoted on her feet towards the steps leading from the wooden porch to the pool. Dingo followed suit. But just as she was about to leave, Dennis reached forward and gave her a strong spank on her bottom. The girl froze, but then looked over her shoulder, casting off a flirtatious smile and accompanying wink.

"Wicked, bad, naughty _Dennis_," Lance commented, setting his drink and hotdog on the railing. He decided to go for a swim, but not with Zoot and Dingo Morison.

Just as he had expected, Elaine Shalott was waiting for him as she floated in the pool on her raft that Lance had sworn that in one more summer and it would be just a bunch of plastic. "Cuddle-fish!" She called, instantly springing up to roar with her hands to the edge of the pool. "Come in here! We need to become the crowned champions of checked like we did last year."

Smirking to himself, Lance threw himself in a cannonball formation into the pool, becoming the cause of a tidal wave that drenched several couples. When he surfaced for air, Elaine was leaning in for a quick kiss. Lance threw himself up and planted a smooch on her lips.

"And we`ll be the champs again next year," she mused dreamily when the broke apart.

"Yeah."

Gwen felt like she had been kicked off a cliff into the whirlpool. Of course, every moving day was like this. Her head was spinning, slight nausea threatened in the pit of her stomach. She didn`t know what to do. To direct the brawny men taking her couch out of the van, grab a couple of boxes and carry them inside, or to just sit and think. Currently, she was standing stupidly in the middle of her new lawn, pondering what to do.

Sweat tickled at the roots of her hair on the back of her neck. It sure was a hot one today. She winced up at the sun, observing that it was perfectly cloudless. It wasn`t until she heard a car pull up that she tore himself from the sky.

Much to her surprise, it was a red Porsche that glistened in the sunlight. The woman driving, who could be seen since the top was down, was just as primped and pampered as what the status of her car suggested. She stopped in front of the new house, and exited the vehicle while collecting herself with a clipboard.

"Hello!" She greeted as she rounded around the car and approached the girl fearlessly. It took a Gwen a few awkward moments before she managed a shy little "hi". This woman`s hair was pulled up into tight bun that gave no room for any spare hair to let loose and fall. She was clad in a red business suit that somehow made her hips and bust look bigger than they probably were and made Gwen feel underdressed. Gwen was wearing her typical summer uniform- a red tank top, jean shorts that were frayed into Daisy Dukes and aquamarine Old Navy flip-flops that had seen better days. Sliver bracelets tinkled around this woman`s wrists, and her expensive looking heels clicked as she walked up onto the lawn.

"I`m Joy Conell. I sold this home, so I thought that it would be nice if I stopped by and see how thing are going for you. " She explained herself, extending a hand for Gwen to shake, which she accepted.

"Gwen Ramirez and they`re okay."

"Gwen- that`s a pretty name." Joy`s smile was so brilliant that Gwen knew that it had obviously been bleached. "Well it`s a pleasure to met you. Is your father here?"

"Yes," Gwen answered, nodding. "He`s around here… somewhere. I think he`s putting the coffee table in the living room. He`ll be out in a minute."

"Thanks."

Awkward, unwanted silence and tension filled the air; so thick that it could have been chopped by a sword.

"What grade are you going into, Gwen?" Joy asked. Obviously small talk would be a way out of this ditch of awkwardness.

"I`ll be a junior," Gwen said, but she could almost guess what the next question was. "I`m going to Avalon High school."

If Joy`s smile could go any farther it would of possibly tore her face in half. "Oh really? That`s fantastic. I have a daughter who goes there, and she`s your age. Maybe you`ll have a class together."

"Maybe."

As if he had been summoned, Mr. Ramirez, Gwen`s father, came jogging up behind them. He was even sweatier than Gwen was, obviously from his hard work from the move. Perspiration made his skin and dark black hair glisten. "Oh Joy, glad you see you," he huffed between deep breaths. "I see you`ve met Gwen."

"I did." Joy stood as straight as a pole. "I was just saying that I have a daughter in her grade."

"That`s great." Mr. Ramirez was just starting to regain control on his breathing. "Gwen- do you mind bringing a few of your boxes up to your room while I talk to Joy for a bit?"

"No problem," Gwen said, pleased that she was excused. Finding a box that said _Gwen`s Things_ wasn`t that difficult to do since they we`re all organized by room from earlier that day. She grabbed a lighter one, but even still she had to bend backwards to compensate for the added weight in front of her.

Dodging mover and people offering to help, Gwen made her way up the stairs into what would be her bedroom. The door was shut closed, so she had to drop the box and open it, then turn on the lights. Slowly, they flickered on and casted a weak, almost yellow glow in the room.

"_Great_," she said, looking at the hideous combination of an ugly shade of pink on the walls and blue, stained carpet. Surely, whenever she would get the chance she would paint over the pink and make it green.

She grabbed the box and squandered into the middle of the floor with it. Tiredly, she plopped the heavy weight and herself onto the floor.

She was curious what exactly was in this box, so she picked at the tape and managed to spit it apart to open the box. And then her heart fell.

_Lakeview Fighting Bullfrogs _read the yearbook on top of the stack. It was her yearly from her old school, the one she had moved away from. Disheartened, she shoved the box far away from her and sighed.

She was going to need a lot more mental preparation for her year at Avalon High.


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter One**

Herbert Swampcastle tentatively walked down the stairs into the living room, praying that his father was either still asleep or wallowing in a hangover. If he was one of those, at least he wouldn`t have to face confrontation with him and thus ruining the Herbert`s first morning of his Junior year.

Herbert sniffed, getting a strong smell of the aroma of cigarettes, coffee, and breakfast-strudel warming in the toaster as he turned the corner through an archway into the kitchen. There, sitting at the old, scratched, and nearly busted kitchen table was his father. The ruddy face man was sipping his "New York Yankees" mug and skimming through the Politics section of _The Herald_. Herbert eyed the ash-tray sitting on top of the comics, already loaded with a butt.

"`Moring, Father," Herbert greeted, summoning all the chipper energy he could scrounge for his father and at this early hour. He took his hands out of his pine-green sweatshirt that had "Camp Walden: A Summer Tradition Since 1934" printed in white. He fixed a few golden curls. "Sleep well?"

The father gave an unintelligible grunt, flipping one page. "Shouldn`t you be at school?" He grumbled, eyebrows furrowing into a scowl as he added, "And out of my hair?"

"School doesn`t start until eight o'clock," Herbert informed his father, skidding to the marble isle. "Robin`s picking me up." Herbert`s father didn`t seem to care, so he didn`t waste his energy giving a response. "In his new car," Herbert continued. "He just got it yesterday, you know. Remember how I asked you if I could go to the dealership with him? But you said I had to unpack. "Herbert gave a nod to a few cartons laying on the kitchen`s floor, labeled "Kitchen Stuff" in red permanent ink. "He also got a new C.D. I think it`s Clay Aiken`s new release or some new musical. I dunno. He has like every Broadway musical`s cast recording. You should see his C.D. rack. It`s gigantic-"

_Ding!_ Two toaster strudels poked their way up through the slits of the toaster. Mr. Swampcastle set his newspaper down, grabbed his empty coffee mug, and got out of his chair to retrieve his breakfast and hopefully shut his son`s one sided conversation down. He took a paper-plate from a pile by the toaster, picked up the strudel pair without wincing at their heat. Finally, he snatched the icing packets that he accordingly sat by the toaster and frosted them in no particular way.

Herbert licked his lips enviously. "Do we have anymore strudel?" He asked, leaning on the isle and kicking his slippered feet like a child.

"No." The father plainly answered, but pulled out a box of Pop-tarts from the cupboard from above. He snatched one and threw it at his son. The Pop-tart skidded over the isle`s slick marble top and fell onto the floor. "We`re out."

"Oh," Herbert sighed, obviously disappointed at the option for breakfast. He bended over and picked the clearly broke Pop-tart up from the ground. He unwrapped it. "Do we only have Cinnamon?" He asked, staring at the broken, brown dusted breakfast pastry.

"Yes." Mr. Swampcastle took the coffee pot and poured himself a second helping of the black liquid. He swung it down in one gulp.

Herbert sighed once more took the broken Pop-tart to the toaster and popping one half into each slot. While they were toasting, he walked to the fridge and pulled out the vast jug of Sunny-D to pour into a blue glass cup.

"What the hell are those for?!" The father seethed, noticing his son`s choice in foot appeal. There, on Herbert, where (what his father thought at least) pink monstrosities. Herbert`s slippers were fuzzy and unbelievably feminine, touched with a little light pink pom-pom.

"What`s wrong with them?" Herbert asked, looking innocently down at his shoes and kicking them cutely.

"What`s wrong with them?!" Mr. Swampcastle echoed. "What`s right with them, is the question! Herbert, I demand you take those off and throw them in the garbage."

"But why?" Herbert whined. He truly adored these slippers. They were a bargain as well. He bought them for only five dollars at Payless.

"God, Herbert. . ." Henry ran his hand through what little there was of his balding mud-colored hair. "We`ve been over this with that shirt you wanted to buy! Pink makes you look like a friggin`-"

An exhausted sounding horn blared through the open window. It was Robin.

Saved by the horn, Herbert thought, swigging down the Sunny-D from the glass, grabbing the piping hot Pop tart in his hand. Quickly, he ran through the kitchen to the front door, kicked off his slippers and slunk on his checkered Vans. He pulled his backpack from where he had set it the night before and placed it on his shoulders. However, before he did that, he snuck the slippers into the front pocket of the bag. If he didn't do that, he'd most likely never see them again."Goodbye!" Herbert called, pulling the door open and then shut.

"Hey!" He could hear Robin yell.

Herbert was blinded by early September sun-shine that was a sharp contrast from his dull and dark house. He blinked quickly, but when he could finally see, he noticed a green colored Grand Prix parked out in the front of the house behind his father`s gigantic SUV.

"Nice wheels," Herbert remarked, walking down the cement pathway to greet Robin. Though that was a bit of a stretch, because the car looked to be at least fifteen years of age and it was a bit dented up. From the window, he could see Robin`s smirk on his face.

"I know," Robin said proudly, stroking the ripped fabric of the passenger seat lovingly. "Paid every penny for it. I consider it a late birthday present to myself. Sure, it`s nothing fancy, but it`s still a car."

"That`s so cool," Herbert admired, ducking into the car, sitting in the passenger seat, and placing his bag on the floor. He grabbed the seat-belt and securely fastened it. "I wish my father would even let me get my driver`s license, or at least my permit."

"He`ll have to someday" Robin said. He pulled two strange objects out from the pocket of his green jacket. "Here," he said, offering one to Herbert. It was a pair of cheap-looking sunglasses. In fact, they still had the ninety- nine cents sticker stuck to their lenses. "Put these on."

"Why?" Herbert questioned, awkwardly looking at the glasses and then at Robin.

"We are officially cool. We have a car."

Herbert couldn`t help but give a "Are you serious?" look to Robin, but he giggled and obediently put the sun-glasses on as his best friend did the same. They turned to face each other. Robin gave two thumbs up while Herbert gave a silly looking face of approval. Both couldn`t suppress their laughter.

"Okay," Robin said, starting the engine of the car back up and pulling out of park carefully. At once the C.D. started at tract two, and "Summer Nights" blared through the speakers.

"_Grease_. How suitable," Herbert laughed. Robin nodded as he drove past the Cattail Way street sign.

"I thought we`d kick off the school year with it." He rounded the corner and down Crane Drive. Silence followed for a moment, both enjoying the music. Herbert nibbled on the still quite warm Pop-tart pieces.

"I like the sweatshirt," Robin noted, sending a glance to Herbert. "Brings back a lot of great memories from this summer."

"It sure does. Thanks for coming to camp with me again, Robin," Herbert said, facing forward to the road. "I was so glad that you wanted to be a counselor."

"Well it did help me get this car, and I had a cool time hanging out with you this summer." Robin tightened his grip on the wheel, and drove through the large, rough iron gates of the community. All of a sudden, the tone went far more serious than it was previously. "Did you tell him yet?"

Herbert shook his head. "Robin I don`t have the courage to yet. It`s certain death."

Robin nodded while getting on the main stretch of road. "You don`t have to tell him, Herbert. Not now, at least. Maybe you could wait until college. . ."

"No!" Herbert interjected. "I know he`s going to kill me. But it`s killing me NOT to tell him, Robin. I feel dishonest. He has a right to know."

A brief pause of silence followed, the only noise was the Grease soundtrack still rambling. "He does," Robin said at last, expelling air. "But Herbert, until you tell him, please don`t make it obvious."

"I won`t" Herbert promised. He turned on his side, peering out the window. In the distance he could see the intimidating grey-stone building looming over several low trees. There, was Avalon High, waiting for the brand new school year to start. Robin turned and pulled into a decent parking spot that was not too far from the school. Grabbing his keys and shutting off the car he turned to his best friend asking, "You ready for this?"

Herbert sighed. "As ready as I`ll ever be."

Gwen Ramirez dodged her way through a sea of students, timidly looking around for the gymnasium. She tucked a black springy curl behind her ear; a habit she found herself doing when she was nervous.

It was her first day at Avalon High School and sure, she had been oriented by the dashingly handsome boy who helped with acquainting new students and she did have a brief orientation two weeks before school was planned to start for the year, but like every new girl she felt like she had been thrown into the lion`s pen at the zoo. Her stomach turned with anxiety and a yearning for the way it was last year.

_God, you`d think I would have gotten used to being the new girl,_ she told herself, bending her hip to not bump into a passionately making out couple who leaned against a locker.

It was true. Gwen had moved five times in her life. Once from San Antonio, Texas to Tucson, Arizona when she was little - so young in-fact, she didn't even remembered it. Another move came when she was three to Las Vegas, Nevada. The biggest move came when she finished Kindergarten, all the way to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. The next move wasn`t nearly as drastically far, but it was a much different setting. From going from big cities to a small town not very far from New York City, in fact. That was when she was in sixth grade, going into middle school. She had been extremely fortune not to move at all during middle school, nor the first two years of high school.

But her dad _had_ to be moved to a new location this year. Just when Gwen had settled comfortably into the town and knew most of the people there, she had to be dragged to a place that was completely different.

_Make the best of this_ was the chant she told herself as she pried herself from her bed in preparation for school. _You can do it. It will be okay._

Hopefully it would be.

"Crap," she audibly cursed, still searching for class. Gwen tugged on the strap of her aquamarine tote-bag with insecurity. Where was this gym and why hadn`t she received a map?

She had to resort to asking for directions. "Excuse me," she tapped the nearest boy on-the shoulder. He was of short stature and clad in a simple blue and white polo with jeans. His head was topped with messy- mud hued hair. "Yes?" He asked, jolting back a few steps.

"Hi- I`m uh, kind of lost," Gwen told him. "Could you help me? I need to find the gym."

A smile worked its way onto his face. "New to Avalon, right?" The boy asked. "Coincidentally, I`m going to Gym this period, as well. I`ll show you."

"Thanks," Gwen flushed violently as he motioned the way down the hall. She got a greater hold on her books. "I really appreciate it-"

"Patsy," he answered promptly. "Patsy Weinstein. And no problem. What`s your name?"

"Gwen Ramirez," was the simple answer, but he opted in explaining the rest." Well, actually my full name is Guinevere but I go by Gwen."

"Nice to me you, Gwen," Patsy said as the made a stop in front of three sets of doors. He pointed to the large, center double-door. "That`s the main Gym, the girls locker room is on the right and the boys on the left. I`ll see you inside." And with that, he departed for the left-side door and Gwen for the right.

"Thank you," Gwen called after him as he vanished inside the locker room and she returned to the girl's door.

When she opened the door, most of the other girls where in varying stages of dress; some with all their gyms clothes on, some missing a top or bottom. She turned away from them, seeing that down a mini stretch of hallway was an office.

She walked casually to the door and knocked twice. At once the door swung open by a woman who looked to be in early twenties, dressed in a black with silver trim work-out suit. "Hello," she greeted in an unusually chipper sounding voice.

"Hi, I`m new here," Gwen stated, for at least the thousandth time in her life.

"Oh good! Glad you came to my office first," She pulled the door much wider, and exited in order to make longer conversation with the girl. "Well today we have a ten minute orientation for the sake of new-people and then the rest of the time we`ll have a dodge ball game. Do you have your change of clothes?"

Gwen nodded, knowing that Avalon High School required students to wear a pair of black shorts and grey tee shirt with their names printed on it. "Go change then," the gym teacher instructed, pointing to where the other girls where gathered. "But I need your name first."

"Gwen Ramirez," Gwen felt like a robot, having to repeat her name the entire day.

"You have locker 153."

Gwen obeyed and went straight to the locker, opening it and stuffing her backpack inside. She tore it open and grabbed the pair of Adidas pants and crumpled tee with "G. Ramirez" written in her own handwriting.

"You`re new here, right?" A voice asked. Gwen at first questioned where the voice was coming from, but she saw that standing right besides, opening the door of locker 152, was another girl. She wasn`t very pretty looking, with a round plump face and small, almost pig-like, leaky light-blue eyes. Her hair was long, falling behind her back, and hued and somewhat ugly shade of dirty blonde.

"Yeah," Gwen answered stepping out of her Chuck Taylors and pushing them aside with on foot. "I am."

The girl grabbed the end of her own shirt and tore it off reviling her lacy champagne colored bra. She tossed the shirt in the locker and grabbed for the change of clothing within the unit. "So where are you from?"

"Lakeview," Gwen promptly answered, pulling on her gym shorts and tying the little black strings into a little bow.

"Lakeview?" She echoed.

"Yes, Lakeview High," Gwen repeated.

"So we got you on the other side, huh?" The girl said with a laugh. "Since Avalon and Lakeview are football rivals."

"Well I didn`t really go to football games," Gwen said, wishing they were talking about something else than the fact that Lakeview`s team always kicked any team thrown at the theme's butt. "So, um, how long have you lived here, in Kingston?"

"All my life," The girl answered, getting on the ground to tie her green Converse high-tops. "And just as a warning, the tacos are NOT edible at this school."

Gwen couldn`t help but give a small laugh, recalling how God-awful Lakeview`s food was as well. "Well, if it helps, Lakeview High wasn`t known for its food ether."

"LET`S GO LADIES!" They could hear the gym teacher call from the doorway. Gwen was just about to walk away, when the girl said, "Lucky Conell."

"What?"

"My name`s Lucky Conell." She extended a fat little hand to shake. Gwen accepted it and said, "Gwen Ramirez."

They left for the gym, where the boys off the gym class where already sitting (for the most part) on the large bleachers against the right wall. The hall echoed with their nonsense chatter and yelling. On the far wall, Gwen could see a gigantic painting of a knight on horseback, sword in hand. Beneath that, in large and somewhat fancy script, read Avalon High School: Fight for Right!

It was official; she was now an Avalon Knight.

Gwen took a spot by Lucky who was now swarmed by three other girls, all giggling like lunatics about something. She couldn`t hear what it was, for the other conversations droned it out.

"QUIET!" Order the male teacher, standing directly beside the woman. In contrast, he was much older, the wispy hairs onto of his head where snow-white and underneath his coordinating black suit he had quite a bit of a beer belly.

The crowd only slightly followed instructions, because Gwen still heard faint whispers of conversation from behind her. "Now that I have your attention, I`d like to welcome you to another year here at Avalon High School. For those who don`t know me, I am Coach Innes, you`re gym teacher for the year and the coach of the Avalon Knights. . ."

He seemed to drone on and on and on with explaining everything, that the ten minute orientation seemed to take up all forty-five minutes of class. Lucky was still talking about something to the three other girls and faint giggling could heard from them.

"Alright!" Coach Innes said with much more enthusiasm, jolting the class back to life. "Let`s finish up class with a game of dodge ball!" Several moans, including one from Lucky, where audible. But Coach Innes didn`t seemed to care and ordered them to line up on the other side of the gym against the wall. They scurried to follow his demand.

"Cockburn! Pendragon!" Innes called with clipboard in hand. Two boys stepped forward. "You get to pick the teams."

"Way to go, selecting the best athletes in the school to chose teams," Lucky said, leaning against the black base wall of the gymnasium. But Gwen didn`t hear, for her eyes were glued on the two boys. Lucky turned and saw Gwen`s look of heart-throb spreading across the face rapidly. Lucky gave a smirk and raise a thin eyebrow. "They`re hot, aren`t they?"

Gwen nodded approvingly and said, "Oh yeah." The one had sort of a dark, exotic look air about him, with his tanned skin and spiky dark-brown hair. He was more muscular than the other .

"Good news for you, Arthur Pendragon is single," Lucky said, motioning with her head to the one on the right. He was dreamy looking, like he came right out of an ad for an expensive teen clothing brand. With his almost golden brown hair falling down to his noble-looking brow and storm-grey hued eyes scanning over the rest of the gym, Gwen could help but smile.

"But he`s also the most wanted," Lucky added. "In all the years Arthur`s been here, he hasn`t dated one girl. Which is kind of strange for him being so popular. As you can imagine, he`s like the Holy Grail for every desperate girl without a boyfriend here."

"Lance Cockburn on the other hand," – a motioned to the dark-haired boy –" has a girlfriend named Elaine. But she`s kind of . . . protective. She makes sure we`re all at least ten feet away from him at all times."

Arthur made the first pick calling "Bedivere!" A tall, almost chubby looking young man with curly black hair and dashing blue eyes walked over to Arthur and gave him a high-five. But under the boy`s arm was a book.

"This whole thing is a popularity contest," Lucky stated, pushing a strand of hair that fell in front of her vision aside and tucking it behind her ear. ""If you can`t throw a ball to save your life, you're the last of the heap."

Lance was next and called for a boy called Dennis Galahad, who had longish blonde hair and eyes as green as spring-grass. Arthur chose Patsy, who saw Gwen in the crowd and gave her a smile. "The only reason Arthur chose Bedivere, who voluntarily gets out so he can read his book, is because they`ve been friends since pre-K," Lucky explained.

More and more people where called, and soon the only four people left was a boy hopelessly lost in a sea of fabric of his gym class with a head of springy golden curls, a trim one with fire red hair, Lucky and Gwen.

"I`ll pick…." Lance was in thought for a moment pointing at the red-head, forgetting the boy's name. "Robin" another boy prompted. "Robin." The boy walked to the group and shuffling towards the back. Arthur looked puzzled, rubbing his hand on his chiseled chin. "I`ll take Lucky," he said.

Lucky violently grabbed for Gwen`s arm and hoisted it up. "Gwen and I are a double pack!" She announced. "You get both of us."

"Fine by me," Arthur said, though he was clearly a bit pleased with that, because he gave a blinding smile to Gwen, who felt her cheeks turn scarlet. "You`re on my team," Lance called to the curly one, though he didn`t know his name so he just left it at that.

The game began.

A ball flew her way and she caught it while Arthur was looking. A smile flashed across his face as the coach blew his whistle and motioned for the player to go sit back on the bleachers. "Nice catch," was the only thing Arthur said, before throwing a ball towards one player.

If she wasn`t blushing beforehand, it was apparent now more than ever. "Thanks," she mumbled, hoping to the side to avoid another ball, which landed on the ground a bounced a few feet.

At that moment, the bell rang for class to be switch, and the coaches gave loud, long blows of their whistle. "Game over, Pendragon team wins," Innes announced. "Class dismissed."

Like a herd of cattle, they all filed in towards the doors of the locker rooms, occasionally kicking balls further in front of them instead of picking them up. "Hey," Lucky called to Gwen. "Do you want to sit at my table for lunch?"

Gwen didn`t hesitate, having been offered the something many a time at her first day at new school. "Sure thing."


	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

"How was your morning?"

Herbert snapped away from a tiny day-dream as Robin asked him a question and the lunch line progressively moved forward. "Sorry, what?"

"I asked, how was your morning? I didn't get to talk to you in gym last period."

"Good," Herbert muttered, digging his hands deeper into the pockets of his sweatshirt. "I have Maynard for second period and he seems like he is a pretty good History teacher, but he has a tenancy to ramble on and not get to the point," Herbert said, recalling his second-period class.

The corner of Robin`s lips turned into a smile. "Thanks for letting me know. I remember that last year our-" However, he was cut off as three other people joined the line.

Robin's friends from musical and marching band.

"Hey Robin!" They seemed to call in unison. One girl, Lucy, with long coffee brown hair wrapped her arms around Robin and squeezed him with much happy squealing. Robin looked at her awkwardly. Herbert suppressed a giggle, knowing how much his friend detested really close contact when he was sweaty.

"Hi guys." He broke the hug with Lucy. "So how`s your first day back in the slammer?"

."It`s been good."

"Okay."

"Pretty good"

A girl with short blonde hair, Johanna, smiled brightly at Robin. "I`m glad we have Drama together," she told him.

"Yeah," Robin approved, excitement bubbling inside him that was ready to burst. "I`m so excited for the school musical coming up! I wonder what it will be this year."

A boy, Neil,s poke up. "I hope it`s something Lloyd Webber, like _Cats _maybe. Or _Phantom_."

Robin smile was undeniable as he agreed. "I sincerely hope we do _Phantom of the Opera_. Or have the budget for it, at least. It must be crazy expensive to get the rights and the sets and the costumes and everything but it would be the best production Avalon has seen in years!"

Herbert, from his exclusion from the conversations, expelled air and leaned against the white washed wall. It wasn`t that he hated Robin`s musical theatre oriented friends. Not at all. He was fond of them and even considered them his own friends. It was just that he never had been allowed to participate in theatre or music because of his father disapproval of a male in such things. Perhaps Herbert was a bit envious.

The line inched forward, and Herbert was herded straight into a jock`s back. "Watch it, fruit cake!" The jock hissed at poor Herbert, giving his shoulder a sharp push backwards, causing Herbert to almost lose his balance.

"Sorry," Herbert mumbled thickly. He had received so many comments like that since at least junior high. The violence, however, was new to when he enter high school. Heat filled his eyes from past remarks and harassments, but he sucked it back it.

"Here you go hon." The middle-aged lunch lady said, passing Gwen a tray piled with food over the severing table. "Thanks." Gwen grabbed the tray and departed the lunch line.

She balanced the tray of overly crispy looking fried chicken, weak-yellow corn, mashed potatoes that retained the ball like shape from when it was scoped onto the plate, and a small iced brownie on one hand to pick up a bottle of water. She moved to the cash register, where she placed the tray beside her and pulled a few crinkled dollar bills out of her front pocket and presented it to the worker. She offered her a smile as she gave her the change.

A bit unsure of herself, she stepped out into the main hall and looked around. The deafening sound of talking and forks clinking against trays was overwhelming. People swarmed around gigantic round tables, all laughing, gabbing, and eating. Gwen could barely hear herself think.

"GWEN!" A voice called.

Gwen blinked and saw that in the left direction of the cafeteria was Lucky standing up at her table, waving her arm in the air to get her attention. "OVER HERE!"

Obediently, Gwen walked over to the table and took the already scooted out chair across from Lucky. There where the girls from the previous period, still giggling away over their sandwiches. They all had packed their lunches rather than purchase one from the school. However, another person unfamiliar person was sitting beside Gwen. His appearance nearly frightened her.

Instead of a regular color, this boy had deep blue colored hair that feel to his shoulders. At the tip of his chin, the scuff of a newly forming goatee had sported. And he was wearing a rather eccentrically designed tee for a band Gwen had never heard off.

As she took her seat and clanked the tray onto the table, four pairs of eyes fell onto her and awkwardness filled the air. "This is Gwen Ramirez," Lucky introduced to the rest of the table. "She`s new to Avalon, so I thought I`d let her sit out our table."

"Gwen this is Tristan," She motioned to one girl with springy curls and freckles that darted over her face. "Aggie." The girl with long reddish brown hair and a bit of a hooked nose waved. "And of course Roger." The azul haired boy nodded at his name, taking a bit of his chicken sandwich. "Oh hey, did you get my e-mail on the community peace garden this Saturday?" He leaned over to Gwen. "I`m head of the gardening club for Avalon."

"Can`t make it," Lucky said, shaking her head. "The family and I are attending some other charity event at the country club." She took a large bit of what appeared to be a peanut butter and banana sandwich and swallowed quickly. "It`s good for his reputation with the voters." She turned her direction to Gwen and explained "My father is running for mayor again this year."

Gwen eyes widen with surprise. "Mayor, really? That's impressive."

"Lucky, isn`t that a new necklace?" Aggie asked. She was obviously referring to the tiny golden four-leaf clover charm that was fascinated by a chain around Lucky`s thick neck. "I've never seen you wear it."

"It is," Lucky replied, touching the clover delicately with her French-manicured stubby fingers. "My grandmother bought it for me while she was in Ireland this summer."

Gwen starred admiringly at the necklace, wishing she could afford thing like that. All her jewelry was bought at craft festivals or at discount stores.

Tristan looked at Gwen asking "So where did you move to from?"

"Uhh…" Gwen looked around, praying that she wasn`t in the presence of die-hard Knights. "Lakeview," she said at least.

"She's on our side now," Lucky said with a laugh.

"My father`s been moved all over the country for work," Gwen explained. "It finally seemed like we were settled down, but he had to move thirty miles west to here. My mother isn`t around much, she always on international business so it`s just me and my father for the most part."

Lucky nodded apprehensively. "My dad and I are close. I don`t get talk much with my mother, she`s always 'busy' with her business." She made quotations marks with her fingers. "Always."

"Who are you staring at?" Lance Cockburn asked to Arthur Pendragon, who had his head in one hand, eyes dazed into the distance. Patsy Weinstein bended himself a bit to see what girl his friend had his eyes on. "What? Lucky Conell?" Patsy shrugged. He didn`t think Lucky was all that pretty nor Arthur`s type.

"The only thing that`s how about that girl is her "tracts of land" "Dennis said, making a woman shaped motion with his hands. "Any guy to date her is fortunate to have 36 Hs to–"

"God!" Connor Bedivere squealed with disgust, dropping his slice of pizza onto the greasy paper plate. "The less I know about Lucky Conell's boobs- the better!"

"I was looking at the new girl who I played dodge ball with last period." Arthur explained. "She`s cute, butI don`t know her name. . ."

"Oh, that's Gwen Roberts," Pasty said. "She's new here. Do you want to talk to her?"

Arthur drew something with the excess water that had melted off his chilly water-bottle. "I don`t know what to say! If you noticed I`m not exactly all that smooth with ladies-"

"That`s apparent, "Dennis jested, and Lance punched him in the arm. "Ask her where she went to school before," Pasty suggested. "What she likes about Avalon. How her day is going. Anything, really. Just strike up some conversation and don`t chicken out on this…"

"`AAAHH-LLLEEEWWWHH!"

Simultaneous groans came from all five boys upon hearing this. Arthur turned in his chair to see the source of the greeting. At the table behind where three goofy looking boys , each clad in dark denim skinny jeans, button-down shirts, and outrageously loud and colorful socks with Birkenstocks – the French Foreign Exchange students back for another year.

"I see you silly American Sewage Cleaners passed to the eleventh grade- FINALLY!" The ring-leader, Jacques, taunted. He had the slightest bit of a moustache creeping onto his face.

The two others, sitting directly beside him gave celebratory high fives and chuckles. The one to the direct right said, "It`s amazing you second-rate opossum nose wipers even found the cafeteria!"

"Just ignore them," Patsy advised to Arthur, forcing him to look the other way. But just at that second he felt something thud against his back. "What the-?!"

Patsy peered down to the floor; see that a hamburger was not sitting there. He pointed to the sandwich "Did you just throw this at me?!" One took two straws and stuck them up his nose, then poked out his tongue and wiggled his fingers in a "Nananana!" –motion. The other blew raspberries.

"Will you morons stop harassing us?!" Lance hissed.

The exchange students laughed and laughed until their sides ached. "We throw your greasy high-fat American fast food products at you!" Jacques managed to say through burst of laughter, tossing a basket of fries at them. They hit Arthur directly in the back, and he was clearly fuming mad.

"Let`s just leave this table," Patsy said, with a roll of his eyes. They all took their trays and hopped over to a relatively empty table, which was next to Robin from gym class, a few marching band nerds, and Robin`s curly head friend. They were talking about something pretty funny, because everyone was laughing. "You don`t mind if we take these seats?" Arthur asked pointing to four extra seats. "We were being viciously harassed by foreign exchange students."

"No problem," Robin assured, motioning to the seats. Lance set his tray next to the curly head boy and gave a small wave as he pulled the seat from next beside him. "Hi," was the only utterance from him. The boy took a long look at Lance, smiled meekly saying "Hi" back, and then turned back to Robin. But no one noticed he was flushing violently as the group gather around the other table.

"You should just go for it," Bedivere said, now looking in the direction of the new girl. He took a swig of his chocolate milk and whipped the moustache off his lips with his napkin.

For a brief moment, Arthur paused to think. Then he took a deep, calming breathe and said. "I`m going to talk to her," He said at last. Words of encouragement where audible as Arthur left the table and strutted over to the new girl confidently.

"And that is why you never want to forget to bring a washcloth in your carry-on bag – "

Lucky was babbling on about her summer vacation to Paris, when Arthur reached the table. "Hey, uh Lucky, Roger…" The three other girls he couldn`t think of names so, he simply said "Other occupants of this table."

"Oh hi!" Lucky said bashfully, tucking a hair behind her ear. "What brings you to our table?"

Arthur shrugged, and took the available seat on the right of the new girl. "I didn`t catch your name in gym-class," He told the new girl. "What is yours? You know, for future reference."

"My name is Guinevere Ramirez," She said, blush creeping back onto her checks. "But it can be just Gwen."

"Well just Gwen," Arthur said as the girls face turned a deep shade of red. "Where are you from?"

"Well, I`m from Lake-"

A sudden scream came from another table. The rest of the room (who was before extremely loud) fell deathly quiet, seeing that is was in fact Robin who belted out the cry. He arose out of his seat and you could see that there was a visible wet spot against the crotch of his jeans, making look like he solid his pants.

Arthur could see the entire scene. Water was all over the table and everyone sitting there was frozen inaction. "I`m sorry!" One of the boys at the table was apologizing, trying to gather napkins. "Clumsy me!"

"I TOLD YOU HE WAS A BED-WETTING TYPE!" Jacques yelled, so the entire room could hear. Most found this amusing and busted into a hoot of laughter. Robin looked both mortified and ready to cry. He pushed aside his seat and ran away through the doors. "Robin!" The curly head boy called after him, and following his lead.

"Robin!" Herbert exclaimed as he followed Robin's trail towards the bathroom. Robin! Where are you?"

A sneakered foot was under the handicapped stall of the boy's bathroom. He rapped on the door. "You okay, honey?"

"No," Robin's weak voice called. "Can I just hide out here till graduation?"

"I don't think they'd let you," Herbert shook his head with a small laugh. "You actually have to pass your classes –"

"How about transferring? Can I do that?"

"I'd never let you," Herbert said quietly. "Hey, Robin, don`t take those French guys seriously. They`re all empty headed and have no fashion sense. I mean, have you seen those socks?"

Robin laughed. Herbert's tactic was working. "And cheer up! The day isn`t over. Things might get better. So, c'mon out."

The sound of the bell could be heard .

"That`s the bell," Herbert said, looking to the door.

"I-I know." Robin stepped out and then looked down at his still soaked jeans. "But what the hell am I going to do about these?"

"You could use your gym-shorts," Herbert suggested about the soiled pants, although he knew his friend would be unhappy about using his sweaty clothing, but it seemed like the only option. "I`ll cover you to the locker room." He pulled off his sweatshirt and handed it to Robin. "Here, you can tie this around your waist till we get there."

Robin did.

"Herbert, I really appreciate this," Robin said, walking straight for the door behind his friend.

"Oh you`ve done practically the same for me," Herbert held open the door to the school, ushering Robin in. "You know, with the secret and all."

They stayed silent for a brief moment, before Robin piped up. "You`d keep a secret for me, right?" Herbert stopped in his tracks and pivoted to face him. "What is it?" He asked, clearly excited by having his trust returned.

Robin peered around, checking to see if anyone was close by. He instructed Herbert to come close. The boy obeyed, waiting to hear.

"I`ve always liked Jo," Robin confessed.

"More than a friend?"

"More than a friend," Robin assured. "I don`t know. I`ve just had this crush on her ever since I met her that one day at Music class back in third grade when she and I we`re partnered up for that Beethoven project."

A smile grew on Herbert's face. "Oh you`d be cute together! I think you should ask her to the Masquerade dance.

"The Masquerade Dance," Robin scoffed, his lips furrowing into a frown. "Can`t. I`m too chicken, remember? I can`t even ride Cyclone at Coney Island! How do you think I could ask a girl out?"

"I`ll help you," Herbert cracked his knuckles like matchmaking was an easy job.

"And may I remind you that you`ve haven`t dated a soul," Robin added.

"I`m waiting for the one who has that certain special something," Herbert informed his friend, as they began their trek back to the gym for the shorts. "Ohhh… look who stayed up all night and read romance novels on end," Robin joked, his eyebrow furrowing into mock-question. Herbert giggled and replied, "No, it`s something I`ve always dream. That the person I share my first kiss with be nice, loving, and …" He sighed heavily, eyelids hazed with dreaminess. "Absolutely wonderful."

"Riiiggght," Robin pulled away from Herbert, chuckled, and walked closer. "But if you`re that hopelessly romantic, I guess it`s worth a shot."


End file.
